


All Shook Up

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: When the King meets Arcade, he's smitten.  Arcade remains stubbornly obtuse to his attempts seduce him.  It's a match made in New Vegas.





	1. Shake, Rattle and Roll

When the King shows up at the Old Mormon Fort carrying a cyberdog, Arcade just knows that something fascinating is going to happen.  He usually stays back doing research, even when they have moderately important visitors, but the cyberdog piques his interest, so he follows curiously behind them as they walk towards the main tent.  

Julie quirks her eyebrows when she sees Arcade, and Arcade rolls his eyes, already anticipating the jokes about how rarely he leaves the research tent.  

“My ol’ Rexie here has been feeling under the weather lately, and I was hoping there was something the Followers could do to help him,” the King says, laying the cyberdog down on the examination table.  

“King, we’re not vets,” Julie says, with an exasperated tone indicating that she's had this conversation before.  

“He's part robot, too!  I know you have mechanics, Julie. And how different can a dog be from a person, really?” The King asks.  

Rex whimpers, looking up at Julie with big eyes.  His coat looks ragged, which strikes Arcade as strange given that the King strikes him as a man who would regularly groom his dog.  

Julie leans over the dog, doing a cursory exam.  She examines his teeth and eyes.  It strikes Arcade as purely perfunctory, but the King seems to waiting with baited breath.  

Arcade's mind flits right to Doctor Henry.  His old friend has some experience with cyberdogs, after all.  He's hidden up in the mountains, somewhere, but Arcade doesn't want to have to explain why he knows the location of a former Enclave scientist.  

“There’s nothing we can do here, King.  His brain is degrading, and we don’t have the tools or expertise to do a transplant, even if we had another brain,” Julie says.  

“Julie, c’mon now,” an edge has started to creep into the King’s voice.  “You have to do something.”

Arcade inches forward.  Most of the Followers tend to lean a little too much towards pacifism to be any good in a fight.  It’s admirable, really, until an angry man in a leather jacket needs help for his dog.  

“Maybe we should take this outside,” Julie says.

“Or maybe, you should figure out how to fix my damn dog,” the King says, hands balling into fists.  

“I think Julie had the right idea,” Arcade interjects.  “Let’s take this outside.”

Arcade tries to rest a calming hand on the King’s arm.  And then, Arcade remembers why he doesn’t like to leave his nice research tent that often as the angry, leather clad man rounds on him with his fist raised.  

At least the King punches _hard_ , Arcade reflects as his back hits the ground.  The rapidly approaching darkness is way better than the embarrassment of getting knocked on his ass, after all.  


	2. I Got a Feelin' in My Body

The King regrets knocking the blond Follower on his ass nearly immediately.  It’s not the other man’s fault, but he just feels so helpless, with Rex laying there on the exam table.  And, deep down, he knows Julie would help if she could.  She’s good people.  

“King…” Julie says, frowning at him as she kneels beside the unconscious doctor.  

“Yeah, yeah.  Sorry, Julie,” the King says.  

“Help me get him to a bed,” Julie says, “and the rest of you clear out.”

The King scoops the blond Follower into his arms.  He’s a little heavier than the King expected him to be, but nothing that he can’t handle.  

“Don’t drop him,” Julie says dryly.  

“I won’t,” the King says.  “The guy’s gonna be okay, right?”

Julie lifts the guy’s eyelids, flashing a light in his eyes.  She sighs and looks up at the King.  

“You can't come in here and punch my doctors,” Julie says.  “But yes, Arcade will make a full recovery.”

“D’you mind if I wait for him to wake up?  I'd like to apologize,” the King says.  

Punching people for no reason is not cool.  

“No more punching?” Julie asks, eyebrows raised.  

“King’s honor,” he says.  

“Then sure.  I have other work to get back to, though,” Julie says.  She pauses on her way out the door.  “I really am sorry about Rex. If there was anything else, I'd let you know.”

“I know,” the King says.  

Rex whimpers on the table as Julie scratches behind his ears on her way out.  When she's gone, he slides off the table and pads over to the King’s side.  

“I love ya too, buddy,” the King says softly as he takes a seat.  

“I hope you’re talking to the dog,” the man- Arcade, he thinks Julie said- says.  “Or else I prefer gifts and flattery, for future reference.  Much better way to show your affection than punching.”

The King chuckles.  He likes this one.  

“I do apologize for my precious actions,” the King says.  “Punching someone in the face isn't cool unless the person deserves it.”

Arcade snorts.  “It happens more often than you’d expect.”

He sits up, pulling a face as he runs a hand over his cheek.  It looks like it's gonna bruise.  

“Sorry it was so hard, since as you didn't deserve it and all,” the King says.  

“Oh, don't worry about it,” Arcade says, waving his other hand.  “Being knocked out saves me the embarrassment of remembering being knocked on my ass.  It’d’ve been better to have just not been knocked on my ass at all, but hey, I’ve woken up in worse spots.”

The King laughs a little.  “You’re a funny one, Arcade.  I like that.”

“So, no more punching?” Arcade says.  

“No more punching,” the King confirms.  “Although, I am a fair man.  If you need someone punched, lemme know.  I figure I owe you a punch.”

Arcade raises his eyebrows.  “Thank you?”  

“You’re very welcome,” the King says, grinning.  

“Oh good, you're awake,” Julie’s voice comes from behind him, pulling the King away from gazing into Arcade's pretty green eyes.

“I'm fairly certain I'll live, “ Arcade says.   

“Glad to hear it,” Julie says dryly.  

“Me and Rex will get out of your hair,” the King says.  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Arcade.”

“Yeah, it was great.  Apart from from the whole getting punched in the face thing,” Arcade says.  

The King makes a humming noise in the back of his throat as he looks Arcade over.  “We’ll have to do it again sometime.  No punching, King’s honor.”

“Well, if I have the word of a local gang leader, now I feel safe,” Arcade says.  

“Good, good,” the King says, giving a two fingered salute to both of them on his way out.  “See you both later.”

The King walks down the street, Rex in tow, and whistling to himself.  He hadn’t really expected Julie to be able to do anything for Rex- he’s been by before- but he had hoped that if he brought Rex to her, it’d spark something.  

But… at least he met Arcade.  The blond doctor has a good sense of humor, and the Followers are generally good people- and he’s cute to boot.  He’ll have to make sure that he runs into him again.

“Any luck with the Followers?”  Pacer asks that night.  

“Not exactly the kind of luck that I was hoping for, but maybe, Pace.  Maybe,” the King says.  

* * *

 

“Next time you decide to try to defend my honor, please try to remain upright,” Julie says dryly.  

She doesn’t look up from her paperwork.  Not lots of people come by Arcade’s research tent this late at night, but Julie and Arcade have struck up a friendship of sorts, and she comes by when she has work to do but doesn’t want to sit alone.  

“I’ll see what I can do,” Arcade says.  

“I will say that was quite the display, though,” Julie says, laughing.  “Cryptid Gannon leaves the safety of his research tent, only to get knocked out by the King.  Some of the members are betting that it’ll be another six months until we see you out and about again- others put it at a year.”

Arcade rolls his eyes.  “If you split the pot with me, I’ll come out at whatever time you bet on.”

“Ah, I bet on tomorrow,” Julie says.  “When I win, I’ll make a killing.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Julie says, finally looking up from her paperwork.  “You’re going to go see the King, right?”  

“No?” Arcade says.  “One punch seems like enough.”

“He’s not going to punch you again,” Julie says, rolling her eyes at him.  “The King seems pretty fond of you, actually.”

Arcade snorts, keeping his eyes on his samples.  There doesn’t seem to be much left to examine in these particular plants, but he has to keep hoping that he’ll find something.

“He was just being polite,” Arcade says.  “He knows he can’t go around punching Followers for no reason.  If he does, we won’t patch up the Kings whenever they get in a scrape with the NCR.”

Julie just hums and goes back to her paperwork, which suits Arcade just fine.  


	3. Hound Dog

Arcade does end up going to The King’s School of Impersonation the next day.  He ignores Julie’s pointed looks as he heads out the gate of the Old Mormon Fort.  It’s decent enough weather for a walk around Freeside, and he does have business with the King.  Kind of.

He wants to let the King know that there is hope for his cyberdog.  After all, keeping the King happy is instrumental to keeping Freeside from falling even further into chaos.  They’re not always a calming element- especially when the NCR is involved- but they do help keep the peace and have genuinely good intentions.  That’s not something that can be said about everyone.  

“I’m here to see the King,” Arcade tells one of the guys at the front bar.  

“Talk to Pacer,” the man says, jerking his head towards a man standing next to a door.

“Thanks,” Arcade says, approaching yet another man in a leather jacket.  He’s seen the Kings around Freeside, of course, but it’s strange when literally everyone around is dressed exactly the same.  Especially when they’re all dressed like.  That.  “Are you Pacer?”

“Who wants to know?” Pacer asks.  

“I want to speak with the King,” Arcade says.  

“I could make that happen.  Just how badly do you want to see the King?” Pacer says.  

Arcade snorts.  “I’m not going to pay a bribe to talk to the King, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Then I guess you’re not seeing the King,” Pacer says with a shrug.  “All because you’re just a little stingy with your caps.  That’s a real shame.”

Arcade blinks, vaguely surprised.  He should’ve expected that he’d be shaken down in Freeside for his caps, but the King made it sound like he was willing to at least talk to him again.  Given that he’s here to help, Arcade’s not about to pay.  

“It’s been _so_ much fun, Pacer,” Arcade says flatly.  

Just as he’s about to turn away to head back out the door, the King comes out of the room behind Pacer.  The King pauses for a moment before a grin spreads over his face.  

“Well, if it isn’t the handsomest doctor in Freeside!” The King says, taking a few steps closer.  “How can I help you this afternoon?”

Arcade raises his eyebrows at the over the top compliment, but doesn’t turn away.  At least he’s not being shaken down for caps by a greasy gang member.  That’s always an improvement.  

“Can we talk privately?” Arcade asks.  

He’s leery enough about revealing what he knows without an audience.  Especially an audience that was just trying to shake him down.  

The King smiles, placing a hand at the small of Arcade’s back.  “Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way, Arcade.”

Arcade lets himself be led into the room that the King just came out of.  There are a few other people in the room, including a woman in a leather jacket crooning away on stage, but they clear out quickly when the King snaps his fingers and gestures towards the door.  

“I assume it’s okay if ol’ Rexie listens in.  He’s trustworthy, and I like to have him nearby these days,” the King says.  

“That’s fine,” Arcade says, smothering the urge to make a comment about the fact that the King named his dog Rex.  “It’s about him, actually.”  

The King sits down, gesturing to the nearest chair.  His face has turned serious with the mention of Rex, who has rested his head on the King’s knee.  The King scratches behind Rex’s ear thoughtfully.

“Do you have a treatment?” the King asks.  

“Not exactly, but I’ve heard of, um, a scientist that specializes in cyberdogs.  A Doctor Henry.  If anyone can figure out what’s wrong with Rex, it’s him,” Arcade says.  

The King leans forward a little.  “It doesn’t seem like Julie would withhold that information.”

Arcade feels the heat rising under his collar.  He hates having to hide his past, and he’s pretty sure that he’s not great at it, either.  Luckily, the average person isn’t exactly expecting a former Enclave member to sit down next to them.  Not that the King is exactly average.  

“These are, you know, rumors.  Doctor rumors.  I’ve never met the guy, just heard about him,” Arcade explains.  “She must not have heard of him.”

The King nods a little, looking down at Rex.  “And where can I find this Doctor Henry?”

“He’s- apparently- up in the mountains,” Arcade says.  “So I hear.”

“Oh dear.  So not in Vegas or the immediate area?” the King says.

“I’m afraid not,” Arcade says.

The King sighs and gets to his feet.  He starts pacing in front of the stage, rubbing his chin.  

Rex whines pitifully, padding to rest his head on Arcade’s knee.  While Arcade isn’t the biggest animal person, he gives an obligatory scratch behind the ears anyway.

“I thought that there was someone who could help would be good news,” Arcade says, looking up at the King.

“It is, it is,” the King says, “but there’s the problem of getting Rex to the good doc Henry.  A trip just outside New Vegas, I could swing, but an expedition into the mountains?  There’s too much trouble ‘round here these days for me to leave.”

“If I hear about any Followers caravans heading that way, I’ll have Julie send word,” Arcade says.  “See what we can do to help Rex.”

“I’d appreciate that, Arcade,” the King says, “and I’d appreciate it more if you were the one to come deliver the message yourself.”

“You do realize I’m a medical researcher and not, like, a mailman, right?” Arcade says.  

The King stops his pacing and sits back down, still seeming contemplative.  

“No offense meant, just that it’d be good to see you,” the King says.  “I thought you were a doctor, with the coat and all.”

“I tried that,” Arcade says.  “Multiple patients complained about my bedside manner, so Julie was nice enough to hide me away from the general population.  She has to deal with fewer irate Freesiders that way.”

“I think it’s a shame to hide your handsome face away, but I’m sure that Julie knows what she’s doin,’” the King says.  

“...Yeah,” Arcade says, brows furrowed.  “I’m hoping to find some way to make the actual doctors a little more effective.  It’s not likely to bear any fruit, but _ex nihilo nihil fit_.”

The King stills, suddenly regarding him cooly.  “Didn’t know you associated with the Legion.”

“Not in the _least_ ,” Arcade says, shaking his head.  “A lot of people have spoken Latin.  It doesn’t mean you’re a murderous imperialist.”

“Good, good,” the King relaxes again, all smiles and charm once more, “I would’ve hated to think I’m that bad a judge of character.”

“It’d be hard to run the Kings if you were,” Arcade points out, “and I’d hate to be associated with the Legion.”

“Good ol’ Rexie wouldn’t’ve taken to you so quickly if you were an evil bastard, either,” the King says, pride tinging his voice.  “And he certainly does like you.”

Arcade looks down at the cyberdog that’s still resting his head on his knee.  He gives the cyberdog another scratch behind the ears, which makes Rex whimper.  Even though he’s not an animal person, he can recognize that Rex isn’t looking good.  Poor dog.  

“I guess so,” Arcade says.

There's something almost pleasant about sitting here with the King, even with the hard metal head resting on his knee.  The silence that stretches between them is just toeing the line between comfortable and awkward.  It’s the jukebox in the corner, playing some prewar bop, that keeps it just on the right side of things.  

“Well,” Arcade finally says, “it's been good talking to you.”

The King’s smile twitches.  “It sure has been.  You stop by any time, Arcade- and I'll let Pace know you're on the VIP list, so he won't hassle you again about caps.”

“Thanks,” Arcade says, getting to his feet.  “I wasn't planning on paying either way, so it's a lot easier this way.”

Rex nudges Arcade’s hand with a whimper, and Arcade gives him one last scratch before the cyberdog pads over to the King’s side, laying his head in his lap.  

“See you around,” Arcade says hesitantly before turning away.

The sound of the King whistling mingles with the jukebox playing along in the corner.  It’s tempting to look back, to see if he’s staring off into space or after him or playing with Rex- Arcade is a curious sort of man, after all- but Arcade knows that he really shouldn’t, so he doesn’t.  He just nods awkwardly at the Kings who look him up and down as he walks out.  

* * *

 

“Really made some progress today, Pacer,” the King says.

He’s poured a round of beer, just for the two of them.  It’s a nice way to unwind after a long day, as well as check in on his right hand man.  With everything that’s been happening with the NCR, that’s been harder and harder to do.

“With Rex?”  Pacer asks, swigging the beer.  

“There’s a possibility for him, yeah.  We’ll have to see if it pans out,” the King says, “but I meant with Arcade.  He’s gotta know I’m interested, and what man could possibly resist the King’s charms?”

“You’re really falling for the Follower, huh?” Pacer says, shaking his head.

“He's funny, sweet, and good looking,” the King says.  “That's the whole package.”

“If you say so, boss,” Pacer says.  “I think he looks like a chump.”

The King positively barks with laughter, pouring them both another glass.   

“Now, I just have to plan my next move,” the King says.  

He’s just not entirely sure what that next move should be.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latin in this chapter means "nothing comes from nothing."


	4. Patch It Up

Arcade goes back to his cryptid ways after that.  He keeps poking and prodding at samples in his tent.  Fruitless work, so far, and going just a little slower than usual.  His mind keeps drifting away, and he has to jar himself back to attention.  

“Arcade, you have a visitor,” Julie’s bemused voice comes from his tent door.

He perks up and turns around, feeling strangely disappointed when it’s another woman standing behind Julie.  Arcade doesn’t know the woman, but she’s clearly a member of the Kings- hair styled in a pompadour and wearing an unmistakable leather jacket.  

“Hello?” Arcade says, ignoring Julie’s smirk as she turns away.  

“Hey,” the woman says, hopping up on the table that’s not covered in samples and equipment.  “Name’s Jean.”

“What’s going on?” Arcade asks cautiously.  

The last time a member of the Kings showed up, he _did_ end up getting knocked out.

“The King mentioned that you’re a doctor,” Jean says, and now that she’s said a little more, he can hear the familiar twang associated with the Kings.  “I need one.”

Jean holds up her hand.  One of the fingers is bent, already bruising up.  She doesn’t seem to be in too much pain, given that she looks more sheepish than anything, which is something.  

“I’ll get my bag,” Arcade says.

* * *

 

“What exactly happened?” Arcade asks.  

Arcade is careful as he tapes up her fingers.  She doesn’t wince or groan, just watches in apparent interest.  

“I was at the Wrangler with my girl, and some loser wouldn’t stop hasslin’ her.  So I, you know, encouraged him.  With a couple punches that turned into a brawl,” Jean says with a shrug.  “Stacy wanted to come, but I figured a few broken bones aren’t worth the hassle.”

“What is it with the Kings and punching?” Arcade asks rhetorically.

“If someone was bothering your guy, would you just let it be?” Jean asks.

“Not a problem these days,” Arcade says, “but point taken.  You said it was a brawl.  Any other injuries?”

“Just a few kicks in the ribs,” Jean says.  “Stace can hold her own in a fight, too, so that didn’t last too long.”

“Lift up your shirt so I can make sure nothing’s broken there, too,” Arcade says.  

“I’m pretty sure I’d notice if my ribs were broken, doc,” Jean says, shrugging off her jacket anyway.  

“Just let the medical professional make sure, so I can sleep tonight, okay?” Arcade says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean says.

Jean lifts up her shirt, and Arcade can already see the bruises starting to form.  It definitely doesn’t look pleasant.  

“I’m going to put some pressure on there now, okay?” Arcade asks.

Jean nods with a sigh.  She’s still not actually grimacing, even when Arcade presses against the ribs, which impresses Arcade.  

“Good news,” Arcade says.  “No broken ribs, but you should avoid bar fights for the next few weeks.  Doctor’s orders.”

“No promises, doc,” Jean says as she pulls her shirt back down.  

“I mean it,” Arcade says.  “I’m sure Stacy would rather you stay in one piece.”

“You’ve got a point,” Jean says.  “Thanks, Arcade.”

“Why did you request that I see you?” Arcade asks.  “I don’t actually see patients.”

“Hm, yeah, the King mentioned that when he was telling us about you,” Jean says.  “But I had a good feeling about you.  Figured I’d rather see you, if I had to be seen at all.”

Arcade hums like he understands, even though he doesn’t.  That he’s apparently a topic of conversation around the King’s School of Impersonation is certainly… something.  He’s not sure.  At least they seem to be saying good things, apparently.

“Take it easy for a month, then see a doctor again to make sure it’s healed properly,” Arcade says.  “Don’t decide you can go without the tape all by yourself.  In this case, your judgment isn’t very reliable.”

“Noted,” Jean says.  “Thanks for seeing me, Arcade.  Is it okay if I come back, see you to get my fingers untaped?”

“I guess?” Arcade says.  “There are other doctors here.”

Jean laughs as she pulls her coat back on.  “I can see why the King likes you.  See you in a few weeks, Arcade.  Or sooner.”

“Sooner?” Arcade says.

“Y’know, if I can’t stay out of bar fights,” Jean says with a jaunty wink as she saunters out the tent.  

* * *

 

“You’re seeing patients now?” Julie asks.

“Apparently?” Arcade says.

“If I have to deal with more complaints-”

“She wants to come back,” Arcade interrupts.  “So she doesn’t hate me, at least.”

“You’re going to singlehandedly bring the Kings and the Followers closer together at this rate,” Julie says.  

“That’s good for Freeside.  Right?”

Arcade doesn’t know what it means when Julie just shakes her head at her paperwork.

* * *

 

“How’s that hand?” the King asks when Jean gets back home.  “Stacy told me what happened.”

“I went to have your Follower patch me up,” Jean says.  “He says I’ll be fine.”

“Arcade patched you up?” the King asks.  “Didn’t think he saw patients.  Didn’t think you saw doctors.”

“Stacy demanded I get my hand looked at.  Gotta take better care of myself now,” Jean says.   “So, I figured that at least a gay doctor wouldn’t be weird, since you spoke of him so highly.  As weird, anyway.”

“Makes sense,” the King says.  “I should send him a thank you.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jean says.  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“You make sure that you do whatever Arcade said to heal up, you hear me?” the King says firmly.  

“Yes, yes.  No getting into bar fights until cleared by the good doc.  Gotcha,” Jean says.  “Lemme know if you need any help getting a thank you together for Arcade.”

“Will do, but I think I have an idea,” the King says.  “Now go.  I’m sure Stacy would rather you be with her than talking to me.”

“Thanks, boss,” Jean says, giving him a nod before turning away.  

* * *

 

“So?” Stacy asks when Jean gets back to their room.  “How did it go?”

“Arcade seems like a nice fellow,” Jean says.  “Patched me up nicely, real professional but not cold about it.  Kind of a funny guy.”

She’s not addressing just Stacy.  A good third of the Kings have managed to squeeze themselves into their room.  They’ve all heard of Arcade - as well as the King’s blossoming feelings for the doctor - and they all want the details.  

This isn’t the first time that the King has fallen fast for someone, and they worry about him.  He won’t date anyone in his gang, for ethical reasons, and more than one person has tried to take advantage of dating the leader of the biggest gang in Freeside.

Not that the King is stupid, even when he’s falling head over heels for someone, or would ever put the Kings in danger.  But they, as a whole, care about their leader and want him to be happy.  

Jean hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose to have an excuse to meet the mysterious Arcade, but when the opportunity presented itself, she wasn’t about to turn it down.

“C’mon, Jean,” Sergio says.  “You know the details we actually want to know.”

“He didn’t bring up the King at all.  No probing for information.  No dropping hints about… anything.  I mentioned that the King had been talking about him, and he seemed more surprised than anything else,” Jean says.  “I think Arcade is on the level.”  

“I still think we should keep an eye on him,” Sergio says.  

“I’m not saying that we should totally trust him, but also?” Jean says with a shrug.  “This could be something.  At the very least, he’s a doctor you guys can go to, instead of trying to give each other stitches when you don’t know what you’re doing.  I know most of you are as uncomfy around doctors as I am.”

“Well, that sells him for me,” Stacy says, looping an arm around her waist.  “Anyone who can get my woman to go see a doctor is good in my book.”

Jean rolls her eyes.  “Really, I did it for you.”

“Awwww,” Sergio interjects.  “But maybe we should have a couple more people check out this guy.”

Jean shrugs a little.  “Can’t hurt.”


	5. I Gotta Know

Arcade is stretching his legs around the compound when the King comes by again.  This time, he seems to be carrying some kind of basket; Arcade can’t make out what exactly is inside it.  He watches as the King asks April something before heading to his research tent.

Not even thirty seconds later, the King emerges from the tent, now with nothing in hand.  He looks around, disappointment plain on his face, before heading towards the entrance to the Old Mormon Fort.

There’s a twisting in Arcade’s chest, and he wonders if he should go over and say… something to the King.  What, he’s not exactly sure, so he stays back.  

The King walks out the entrance, silencing Arcade’s internal debate.  He’s not about to chase him out of the Old Mormon Fort.  That would be a little too… something.  

What he will do is indulge his curiosity by meandering back over to his tent.  He pulls back the tent flap and doesn’t see anything immediately out of place.  

Then, he sees it.  Sitting on his bed is the basket he saw from afar earlier.  It’s full of fruit, arranged with care.  Most of it seems fairly common, but they’re fresh and not radiated, which is unusual enough.  

Arcade doesn’t disturb the fruit basket that he’s apparently received.  There’s a prickling feeling on the back of his neck; there’s something going on here that he’s not quite grasping.  

Perched on the top of the whole assortment is a scrap of paper.  Arcade’s name is written on it in a strangely fancy script.  He picks it up, reading it with a raised eyebrow.  

_Arcade-_

_Thanks for patching up Jean.  She doesn’t trust easy, and I know you don’t usually see patients, so I appreciate you taking the time away from your research- hence the fruit basket.  Stop by anytime.  You may have made yet another fan in the Kings._

_Unsurprised,_

_The King_

What.

Arcade rereads the note a couple times just to make sure he’s actually comprehending the words correctly.  Normally, he’s confident in his reading ability, but this time… he’s pretty certain he must have misread that.

When did he even make one fan in the Kings?  

* * *

 

“You’ve had more- what is that?” Julie asks.  

Arcade looks up from his microscope with a sigh.  Not that he dislikes Julie’s company, but she keeps giving him these side glances, and he has the sneaking suspicion that the day’s events will only make matters worse.  

“The King just sent some fruit, for seeing Jean yesterday,” Arcade says.  

Julie makes a tsking noise, pressing her lips together for a moment.  “About that…”

“Don’t tell me she complained,” Arcade says with a sigh.  “Jean definitely liked me.”’

“Not at all,” Julie says.  “In fact, several Kings stopped by my office today.  They want to schedule routine exams, with one catch.  They all want to see you.”

“What?” Arcade asks.  “Julie, I’m a researcher.”

“That’s why I didn’t agree to anything on your behalf,” Julie says.  “I thought I’d run it by you first.”

“So you’re telling me that several members of the local gang have finally gotten into preventative care, but they only want to be seen by me?” Arcade says, squinting at her.  “Are you having me on?  Is this another weird bet?”

Julie spreads her hands.  “You did win me several hundred caps last time.  But this is a real thing.”

“They must be playing some kind of weird prank,” Arcade says.

“Ah, yes, the famous prank where you go to the doctor for your check up,” Julie says dryly.  “That’s a thing.”

Arcade rolls his eyes.  “I’m not sure what else could be going on.”

“Maybe they like you.  Or maybe they’re spying on behalf of some malevolent institution,” Julie says.  “Ooor, they’re just trying to give the King more excuses to send fruit baskets.”

Arcade offers Julie a fresh prickly pear, ignoring her.  “Want one?”

“Are you willing to see patients or not?” Julie says, taking the fruit with a half salute of thanks.  “I’ll turn them away if you want.”

“Ah yes, because turning away people who want to actually take care of their health would definitely fit in with our mission to do good and help the people,” Arcade says dryly, but not meanly.  He appreciates her giving him an out.

“My thoughts exactly,” Julie says, “but I appreciate you coming to the conclusion on your own.”

“Just don’t blame me when it all goes sideways,” Arcade says, shaking his head.  

* * *

 

That’s how Arcade starts seeing a fairly steady stream of Kings.  He didn’t realize there was such a demand for preventative care with a helping of dry wit.  Or preventative care, period.  They interrupt his research, which Arcade secretly doesn’t mind.  It’s good to have an excuse to step away, honestly.  

What Arcade does mind is how… curious they are.  They’re definitely the most curious patients that he’s ever had.  From more banal questions like his thoughts on recent happenings in Freeside to more personal questions about his likes and dislikes to intensely personal questions about his (currently barren) love life.  A few of them even ask after where he comes from, which Arcade skirts around with his usual deftness.  

“So, doc, have you always been from ‘round Freeside?” Bud asks.  

Arcade had been planning on listening to Bud’s breathing, but now seems like a great time to check his temperature.  He slides the thermometer between Bud’s lips before realizing that at the moment there’s nothing for him to do except answer.  Darn it.  

“Not from right here,” Arcade says.  “But I’ve been around for awhile, you know.  Here, I mean.”

Bud’s response is muffled from the thermometer in his mouth, thank goodness.

“You have to keep your mouth closed so I can get an accurate reading,” Arcade says.

Smooth.

* * *

 

In short, despite the fact that he’s the doctor, he feels like he’s the one being examined.  For what purpose, Arcade couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Is this normal?” Arcade asks Julie, running his fingers through his hair.  “Like, did I just forget that seeing patients involves them asking you increasingly personal questions?”

Julie shakes her head at him from where she’s perched on his desk.  She’s looking at him with a bemused grin again.  Great.  

“Most doctors don’t get interrogated by their patients, no,” Julie says.  

“I didn’t think so,” Arcade says with a sigh.  

“Do you want me to cancel the rest of your appointments with them?” Julie asks.  

“No, no,” Arcade says.  “I’ll keep seeing them.  I’m good at deflecting.”

“Well, you’re good at medicine, at least,” Julie says, “and they seem to like you.”

Arcade rolls his eyes at her hilarious joke.  “Apparently so.”

In the corner of his tent sits a now empty basket.  Arcade had finished up the last of the fruit a few days ago, but he can’t bring himself to throw out the basket itself.  Because it might have practical uses, he decides.  Lots of need to store things in Freeside.

As far as the note attached… that’s secreted away in his desk.  He doesn’t want to throw it away, for reasons he can’t quite put his finger on.  When Julie leaves that night, Arcade realizes he should probably write the King a thank you.  It can't have been easy to get all that fruit.  

Arcade isn't sure if writing thank yous for thank yous is a thing, but it's only polite, he reasons.  He just needs to figure out what to _say_.


	6. I Want to Be Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, super sorry for the nine month delay in updating?? Some of ya'll have left super sweet comments which I appreciate beyond words!!! I've got a couple more chapters complete, and hopefully I'll string it out long enough that I never go nearly a year without updating this fic again!! Thanks again to the people who left super kind comments, ya'll really gave me the motivation to keep working at this fic!

“Got a letter for you, boss,” Jean says with a cursory knock on his door before entering; the door is open anyway.  “Figured you’d want it ASAP.”

The King raises an eyebrow.  “From who?”

Jean produces the letter with a flourish and hands it to him.  His name is written in a messy scrawl on the outside.

“From your boyfriend.  Arcade was adorably nervous about the whole thing,” Jean says.  “And when you see him, tell him that I gave it to you _unopened_.  He told me about twenty times not to open it.  I may not be a pro-courier, but I know not to open someone else’s mail.”

The King laughs as he takes the letter from her.  He runs his fingers over the seam of the envelope, curious about what’s inside.  

“Will do,” the King says, “and thanks for the speedy delivery.  How’re your fingers doing?”

“Less broken now,” Jean says, wiggling her unbound fingers.  “Enjoy the reading.”

The King waits until she’s gone to open up the letter, shutting the door behind her.  He takes his time, sliding his finger under the seam slowly before carefully opening the envelope.  Time has taught him to enjoy the good things in life.

_The King:_

_Thanks for the fruit basket.  It was good. I really enjoyed the fruit.  The basket is good too._

_I don’t know what you said to the Kings, but they’re keeping me busy with check ups._

_-Arcade_

The King beams at the note.  He had wondered how Arcade enjoyed the fruit basket- or if he had received it at all.  But now he feels much better about the next gift that he’s been getting together over the interim weeks.  It’s still going to be a little time before it’s ready, but now he’s really looking forward to giving it to Arcade.

Maybe… yes, the King decides.  It’s been some time since _he’s_ seen a doctor.  

* * *

 

“You’re my next patient?” Arcade stumbles over the words adorably.  

The King winks.  “Sure am. Heard so much about your magic hands that I just had to have a check up.”

“Oh.  Kay,” Arcade says.  

“Do you need me to strip?” The King says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That.  Won’t be necessary,” Arcade says.  “We can do the exam fully clothed.”

“Well, it’s less fun that way, but whatever you say, doc,” the King says.  

Arcade’s breath is warm against his face as he stands in front of him.  He presses his fingers along the King’s jaw and down his neck, and while the King wants to make a wisecrack, he knows he needs to stay still.  

“Your Kings are very…” Arcade trails off for a minute, apparently at a loss for words.  “Inquisitive.”

“Oh?” the King says as Arcade shines a light in his ears.  “Is that so? I’m sure they mean well.”

“Julie seems to think they’re under your orders to interrogate me,” Arcade says.

The King chuckles as Arcade moves to examining his eyes.  “She thinks I need to have the Kings interrogate the hot local doctor?  You can tell Julie I’m insulted at that.”

Arcade turns a bright red color, and he turns around to get something off the equipment tray.  He grabs a tongue depressor, but he takes his time with it, like he’s trying to figure out what to do next.  

“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” Arcade finally says.

“Is this the part where I open real wide and say ah?” the King asks, raising his eyebrows.  

Arcade exhales softly and nods, and the King decides no more innuendo for the rest of the exam.  It’s a bad idea to fluster the man examining you, no matter how cute he is. Not that the King actually expected this to be a real exam, but nothing goes as expected with Arcade.

“So, what made you decide to become a doctor?” the King asks when Arcade comes towards the end of the exam.  “Not a lot of people decide to become healers out here, and you’re clearly not in it for the caps.”

“Figured: why not do some good?” Arcade says.  “I just want to be able to do my part with the Followers.”

An idealist in the Wasteland?  It’s enough to make him swoon.

“Color the Kings impressed with your idealism,” the King says, grinning.  

“What about you?” Arcade asks.  “You’re a gang leader with a heart of gold.  How did that happen?”

Arcade shushes him gently, despite his question, as he pulls his stethoscope out and instructs the King to inhale deep.  Truly, the King appreciates the time as he decides just how upfront to be. He has a good feeling about Arcade- and apparently each King that’s visited Arcade feels similarly.  That’s a good sign.

“House came to the Strip.  Offered to let us live under his safety net,” the King says, once he’s allowed to talk again.  “It was a chaotic time for the Strip.”

Arcade takes a step back, leaning against the counter as he looks at him intently.  

“You’re not part of the Three Families,” he notes, soft.

“It would’ve meant giving up our freedom.  That’s not worth the safety, not to me. Some other tribe members agreed- even ones that weren’t part of our tribe originally,” the King says, meeting Arcade’s stare.  “But when you have your freedom, you gotta make sure you use it well. We all live in this world together, after all.”

Arcade arches his eyebrows at him.  “That was… pretty poetic.”

“I’m more than just a pretty face,” the King says with a grin, easing back into the more lighthearted tone.  “Hard as that may be to believe, with a face this nice.”

“Yeah…” Arcade says, squinting at him.  “Hard to believe.”

The King grins at him.  “So you do think I’m cute.  I knew it.”

“I do have eyes,” Arcade says, face turning red.  “But, uh, anyway, your exam is complete! You’re the picture of health!”

“Hmmm, so that’s really it, then?” the King asks.

“Is there something I’m missing?” Arcade asks.  

“No, no, just making sure,” the King says.  He gets to his feet, tipping a quick salute at Arcade.  “Thanks for the check up.”

“My pleasure, King,” Arcade says.  “And, y’know, what you said? About us living together in the world?  Not just poetic- it’s true. Good philosophy.”

Arcade hunches in on himself, a little, but he’s smiling, ever so slightly.  

“Come by the School anytime you want,” the King says, reaching forward to brush some imaginary dirt off Arcade’s shoulder.  “I know I’ve extended the invitation before, but I mean it. Stop by, enjoy the music and the company. We can talk philosophy.”

Arcade nods slowly, face still red.  “I’ll come by.”

The King whistles the whole way back home.  

* * *

 

“...and he just finished the exam?” Pacer asks, raising an eyebrow.  

“Sure did.  I’m healthy,” the King says with a grin.

“He sounds like kinda a dumbass,” Pacer says flatly.  “Still not sure why you’re wasting your time.”

“The man is sweet, Pace, but he’s just playing hard to get,” the King says.  “He’ll figure it out.”

“If you say so,” Pacer says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I went through and redid the chapter titles so they're songs that Elvis recorded! Which I originally meant to do and then forgot. Also, apparently Elvis sang a song called "(You're So Square) Baby I Don't Care" which... lol.


	7. I'm With a Crowd (But So Alone)

It takes Arcade about a week to decide that he’s actually going to take the King up on his invitation, and another couple days for him to actually build up the nerve to go to the King’s School of Impersonation.  He’s not entirely sure why his stomach feels a bit queasy, but he convinces himself that it’s because he’s worried about offending the most powerful gang in Freeside. 

The queasiness in his stomach is why he ends up at the school a little late.  He almost talks himself out of going several times, but Arcade’s need for a night out wins out.  

Arcade slips in the back of the theater, dressed a little nicer than usual.  He figured there’s no need for a labcoat, and he makes sure that his clothes are both wrinkle free and clean.  That’s not an easy order in the wasteland.

He finds an empty table to sit, towards the back, enjoying the song stylings of the woman on stage.  Trying not to look too much like he’s looking around, Arcade tries to see where the King is. 

“Oh, hey, Arcade,” a familiar voice comes from behind him, and before Arcade can turn around, Jean seats herself in the empty seat beside him.  “Didn’t know you were coming out tonight.”

“It was kind of spur of the moment,” Arcade says.  

“Hm, I bet,” Jean says, eyeing him up.  “The King hasn’t come down yet, if you’re looking for him.  He should be by soon, though.”

Arcade flushes just a little, fingers twitching.  “I, uh, you know, wasn’t, but thanks! Good to know.”

Jean gives him the same kind of sideways, knowing grin that Julie has been giving him of late.  He’s starting to think it’s some kind of lesbian conspiracy, directed at him. 

“Anyway,” Arcade says, drawing out the word, “how’s Stacy?”

“She’s getting ready to perform,” Jean says, proud smile on her face.  “You picked a good night to drop by. Stace doesn’t perform often, but when she does… it’s mesmerizing.”

“Can’t wait,” Arcade says.  

“Now, let me buy you a drink, so you can relax a tad bit before the King arrives,” Jean says, already flagging down a passing server.  “Get him the special, you know the one.”

“Do you always order when you’re out with someone?” Arcade teases.

Jean leans back in her chair, smile turning to a cocky grin.  “You don’t know the bartender here. I love him, but if you order the wrong thing, you’re likely to end up so drunk that you don’t make it back to that Fort of yours.”

“I appreciate you looking out,” Arcade says lightly as the drink is set in front of him.  He takes a careful sip as she watches: sweet, but not overpoweringly so, with just a whisper of mint.  “It’s good.”

“Told you,” Jean says.  “Best of all, you’ll remember your name when you’re done with it.”

If this is one of the bartender’s weaker drinks, then Arcade is glad that Jean ordered for him.  By the time he gets halfway through the drink, he’s feeling a comfortable buzz. He’s downed his drink a bit faster than he usually does, which probably is part of it- the alcohol is soothing his stomach ache away, funnily enough.  

“This is her!” Jean exclaims, nudging Arcade’s arm even though her eyes don’t leave the stage.  “Stacy is up next!”

The performer that was onstage when Arcade walked in gives one last bow before walking off the stage.  She’s replaced by a brunette woman wearing the traditional King’s jacket. Stacy looks out over the crowd, performer’s smile turning genuine when she makes eye contact with Jean.  

The music starts to play, and Stacy jumps in with her song.  It’s not a tune that Arcade’s ever heard before, but he taps his foot along to the slow beat.  

Arcade glances over at Jean, about to compliment Stacy’s performance, when something gives him pause.  Jean’s generally relaxed, almost kindly cocky demeanor, is replaced by… something else. It takes Arcade’s alcohol addled brain a minute to figure out what exactly is different.

Jean leans forward in her seat, eyes wide as Stacy performs.  She rests her head on her hand, smile proud and soft. Arcade is pretty sure that a bomb could go off in the room and Jean wouldn’t let it distract her.  

The love makes Arcade's stomach twist strangely.  To a certain extent he's resigned himself to a fairly solidarity existence, given his roots, and he's fine with the notion.  There's more to life than romance, and he wouldn't want to endanger someone with his Enclave connection. 

But watching Jean watch Stacy, especially under the thrum of the alcohol, makes a wanting burrow its way in his chest.  It'd be nice to look at a man with that much devotion; it'd be nice to be looked at by a man with that much awe. He can’t imagine that there are secrets between them.

_Mad about the girl_ _  
__I know it's stupid to be mad about the girl_ _  
__I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights I've had_ _  
___About the girl

Stacy croons away and Jean continues to watch her with utter enrapturement; Arcade can’t help but rock back and forth to the music, too; when the waiter comes by, Arcade orders another special.  

When she’s done, Stacy waves at the crowd, smiling like she’s about to burst.  She bounces back on her heels for a minute as she takes in the crowd before her before strolling off the stage, like she owns it.  

“I’m gonna go see her!” Jean says, patting Arcade on the arm without looking at him.  

“Go get her,” Arcade says, as if he expected anything less, as if she was waiting for his response.  

Arcade enjoys his drink as he watches the crowd.  There are only a few other people who aren’t members of the Kings here, mostly Freeside locals that Arcade recognizes by sight, even if he doesn’t know them personally.  

A minute later, Jean is back, with her arm wrapped around Stacy.  Both women are beaming as they take seats at the table. 

“Arcade, this is my better half, Stacy.  Stacy, this is the doctor I was telling you about, Arcade,” Jean says.  

“Don’t believe everything she tells you.  I’m not too bad, I promise,” Arcade says, reaching over to shake Stacy’s hand.

Stacy laughs as she shakes Arcade’s hand, squeezing tight, before leaning against Jean.  “She’s been quite complimentary of you, don’t worry. In fact, all the Kings seem to think quite highly of you.”

Arcade wants to ask if that includes the King, too, for some reason, but he doesn’t.  He’s pretty sure that would earn him another lesbian conspiracy look. 

“That’s good to hear,” Arcade says.  “Your set was fantastic, by the way. I didn’t realize that the Kings had such musical talent.”

“We’re full of surprises,” Stacy says.  “The King has an eye for talent, and he knows what he likes.” 

“I sure do,” a familiar voice comes from behind Arcade.  There’s suddenly a warm hand on Arcade’s shoulder, and Arcade turns to look up into the King’s smiling face.  “Ladies, Arcade, how is everyone doing tonight?”

Everyone chimes in general agreement that they’re doing well.  Arcade is stuck between craning his neck to make eye contact with the King and looking at the rest of the table; he ends up in an awkward in between state, half turned in his chair, and he ends up with a wicked crick in his neck.  

The King’s hand slides down to Arcade’s arm, even as he ignores him for now to address Jean and Stacy.

“Given that you’re out here, I take it that I missed your performance tonight, Stacy?” the King asks.  

“Sorry, boss,” Stacy says.  “Seven thirty on the dot when I perform.  Otherwise, my adoring fan gets restless.”

“I know how Jean gets when she’s restless,” the King says, with a chuckle and a wink at Arcade, as if this is some shared secret.

“Hey!” Jean protests.  

Stacy leans over to whisper something in her ear, and when she pulls away, Jean elbows her softly, blushing.  They get to their feet, hand in hand.

“Why don’t you take our seats, King?” Jean suggests.  “We were about to hit the dance floor, anyway.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Arcade,” Stacy says, leaning down to shake his hand again.  She winks at him as the King shuffles around the table to take a seat. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“Can’t wait,” Arcade says, shaking her hand and giving Jean a little half wave.  “Have fun.”

“Oh, always,” Jean says with a grin before they disappear into the crowd.

Arcade feels inexplicably nervous again and takes a large sip of his drink.  It goes down easily, easing his stomach. 

“Ah, young love,” the King muses, looking away from where the two women disappeared to focus on Arcade.  “Nothin’ quite like it.”

“They sure are… in love,” Arcade finishes lamely.   

“It's been great to see,” the King says before taking a big breath and letting it out.  “Anyway, I'm glad that you made it out tonight. I've been wondering if you would.”

“Your Kings have been keeping me busy,” Arcade says with a smile. 

_ It's been hard to find the nerve, for some reason _ , Arcade doesn't say.  

“They do that,” the King says, “but I did tell them to lay off the personal questions-”

“Thanks-”

“-because I’d like to enjoy getting to know you myself.”

Arcade feels the heat rising on his cheeks, so he takes another deep sip of his drink, disappointed that he’s somehow reached the bottom of it.  The melted ice mixes unpleasantly with the remnants of the drink, and Arcade pulls a face as it slides into his mouth. 

“I’m really quite boring,” Arcade says, setting his glass down.  “I’m sure any one of your Kings has loads of more interesting tales.”

“But I'm not interested in them; I'm interested in you,” the King says, leaning forward.  

“Oh,” Arcade says, like he understands, even though the alcohol has made it hard to think big thoughts, “I’m still real boring.  Promise.”

“Somehow, I find that unlikely,” the King says.  

Arcade exhales heavily, looking down at his now empty glass.  His cheeks are flaring red again, from the alcohol and the heat of so many bodies pressed in here together.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more private,” the King suggests when Arcade is silent for a long moment.  

Arcade’s good sense says he should politely decline, but he finds himself nodding.  He gets to his feet and follows the King to the exit. 

Maybe it’s his imagination, but he feels certain that he can feel everyone’s eyes on them as they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a different song for Stacy to sing, but then I listened to Valerie June's gay cover, "Mad About the Girl," and it's so good, help. 
> 
> Also, I'm going on my own Vegas adventure next week, so see ya on the flip side!!


	8. Anyplace Is Paradise

The King leads Arcade upstairs.  There are few other people on the upper levels at this time of night; most people are enjoying the entertainment or out for the night.  He takes them past his quarters, to the ladder to the roof. 

“D’ya think you're up for climbing?” The King asks.  

“Of course,” Arcade says, lunging forward.  

To his credit, despite his drunkenness, Arcade does manage to clamor up the ladder.  It gives the King a good sight of his backside, which is certainly a pleasant sight. 

The King follows him up the ladder, and when he makes it to the roof, Arcade is already gazing out over Freeside.  He looks handsome, in the bright moonlight, and the King takes a moment before joining him. 

“Glad to see that the lure of fine entertainment finally pulled you out of the ol’ fort,” the King says.  

“From up here, all you see is the light,” Arcade murmurs softly, seemingly ignoring what the King said.  

“It's a beautiful city, for all its rough patches,” the King says.  

Arcade leans over the half wall, eyes partially closed.  He inhales, deeply, a small smile on his face. 

“Haven’t stayed somewhere this long in… a while,” Arcade says.

The King is tempted to probe; Arcade is so reticent about his past, and the King is a curious man.  But it’s because he keeps so much to himself that the King doesn’t ask any of the questions bursting at the tip of his tongue.  He doesn’t want to take advantage of his inebriated state.

“Hope you’re of a mind to stay longer,” the King says.  “You’ve become quite popular ‘round Freeside, especially around the Kings.”

“You’ve got a good gang here,” Arcade says.  

“We like to keep the peace, best we can.  The Followers probably do the most, but you know that already,” the King says.  

“Didn’t sneak me up here to talk local politics, hm?” Arcade says.  

The King laughs.  “Just wanted to spend some time with you in private.  We can talk local politics or philosophy or the weather.  Whatever strikes your fancy- and I don’t sneak, not in my own home.”

Arcade turns to face him, leaning against the half wall.  His face is in shadow, now, but it’s still not hard to read him.  Drunk people don’t have a lot of secrets. 

“Mostly, my brain is too full of alcohol to come up with something witty to say,” Arcade says, “which is quite annoying.  I like being witty.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” the King says.  “Actually, I have a bit of a gift for you, so you have a bit of time.”

“Another present?  People will start to talk,” Arcade says.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” the King says with a wink.

While Arcade is fumbling over  _ that _ , the King reaches into his breast pocket.  It’s a bit of a bulky package, but he had been carrying it anyway.  He had had a good feeling about today, and he’s glad that feeling paid off.  

“What is this?” Arcade asks after he unwraps the package.

“Man, you must be drunk,” the King says.  “You have seen a scarf before, right?”

“Of course!” Arcade says.  “But, where did you did you get one?  Why do you have it here for me?” 

The King takes the scarf from Arcade’s hand.  He wraps it around Arcade’s neck, making sure to show the Kings’ sign stitched on the scarf.  It’s a nice bit of work, if he does say so himself. 

“It’s just a little token of my appreciation.  You’ve helped out a lot of my members, and I don’t want you to think that I haven’t noticed,” the King says, letting his hand linger on Arcade’s chest.  “I also want to make sure that everyone knows that you’re under the protection of the Kings. Make sure no one hassles you.”

“People mostly leave the Followers alone, but, uh, thank you,” Arcade says, knitting his brows together.  “Still wondering where you got it, though.” 

“I made it, of course,” the King says with a grin.  “I’m handy with a hook. Back when we were a tribe, we had to learn a lot of things to survive, including how to make a blanket.  Scarf’s the same, just smaller.”

“You  _ are _ a man of unexpected talents,” Arcade says.

The King is tempted to lean forward to kiss him; he looks so handsome in the light of the moon, and his lips look particularly soft.  But then Arcade loses his balance a bit, swaying forward and steadying himself on the King’s chest. 

“Whoa there,” the King says, holding onto Arcade to keep him upright.  “How much alcohol did Jean ply you with?”

“Not a lot!” Arcade protests.  “Two specials, which she said were light on the alcohol.”

“Hm,” the King says.  “Mickey doesn’t really doesn’t do  _ light _ on the alcohol.  Just less heavy.”

No kissing tonight.  When he and Arcade do kiss, he wants to make sure that Arcade remembers it all in vivid detail.  

Arcade settles himself against the King, which is a pleasant surprise.  It doesn’t work quite as Arcade probably intends, given that Arcade has several inches on him.  But the King still wraps an arm around him to keep him secure regardless. 

“You’re very warm, but good,” Arcade mumbles.  

“Thank you,” the King says with a chuckle.  

* * *

The music from the club below filters through the layers of plaster and wood, mingling with the chit chat of the people in the street below.  Sometimes a person or two pauses outside the King’s School of Impersonation, nodding in time with the music; none of them look up and see the two men swaying.

Gradually, fewer people pass by, the streets emptying as people return to their loved ones- or their empty bedrolls.  The music slows, too, and inside people start to retire for the night. Some of  _ them _ are alone, too, but others pair off; some of the pairs are comfortable, familiar, expected, and some are new beginnings with uncertain futures.  

On the roof, the two men linger, neither keen to make a move that’ll mean the night is over.  Some time later, the music from below stops, leaving them alone with the sounds of their breathing, as even the Strip has started to go quiet.  

A gunshot rings out and neither of them react to it; it’s too far away to pose any danger.  The world is holding its breath until dawn breaks; both men are tempted to wait for it before moving again.

A second gunshot- closer, but still not close enough to be of true note- stirs both of them to sleepy action.  They head back down the way they came, only barely missing the sunrise.

The next morning, Julie Farkas peeks into Arcade’s tent.  She didn’t hear him come home last night, and she’s curious if he’s figured out he’s being seduced yet. 

A smile tugs at her lips when she pulls open the flap to see Arcade’s bunk completely empty, obviously unslept in.  

_ About time, Gannon _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your patience and kind words! My trip was an absolute blast (I wish I could blame it for my garbage update schedule, but alas I've been home for a couple weeks now) and turns out I love the desert, who knew? 
> 
> Also, super fun fact, "the king makes arcade a scarf and gives it to him" was the FIRST arcade/king thing I ever wrote, but i never ended up posting it because i was going to actually do this fic instead and i'd rather do it in context.


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